


A Pirate's Christmas Carol

by jdmusiclover



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Christmas Fluff, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-23
Updated: 2016-12-22
Packaged: 2018-09-11 05:21:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8955493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jdmusiclover/pseuds/jdmusiclover
Summary: CS Christmas Future Fic.  With only a month to go before the birth of his and Emma Swan’s first baby, Killian begins to fear he doesn’t have what it takes to be a good father.  Three ghosts—from Killian’s past, present and future help him see that he is ready for the adventure that is fatherhood.





	1. Chapter 1

A Pirate’s Christmas Carol (pt. 1 of 2)

**CS genre: CS Christmas future fic**

Killian admired the Christmas tree from his perch on the couch.  The colorful lights shown to full effect in the last hours of the night when all was still and dark and silent.  Tomorrow was the feast of Christmas, and Swan and the lad were so excited they could barely contain themselves.

Killian had to admit he was curious about this Christmas holiday.  What an odd tradition to bring a tree into one’s living room and decorate it with lights and colorful baubles of all kinds!

The Swan-Jones family had spent a pleasant Christmas Eve with the Charmings.  He and Swan were both strangers to the love and joy of family, and so the traditions of the season were both foreign and delightful to them.  It warmed Killian’s heart to see the incandescent joy on his wife’s faces as she watched her parents open the gift she’d selected for them.

It was all he’d wanted for such a very, very long time—to be with the one he loved, to belong to a family.

At least it was all he’d _thought_ he’d wanted…until the day some seven months past when Swan informed him that he was to be a father a month into the new year. 

To say he’d been elated at the news was quite the understatement.  The thought of having a child of his own was a dream he’d long since despaired of realizing.  He loved Henry as his own son, of course, but there was something fitting and beautiful about creating a new life through the True Love he shared with Swan.

Killian reached for his flask, lying on the end table.  He took a long sip and waited for the burning liquid to calm his frazzled nerves.  Swan slept peacefully in their bed, their unborn son nestled warm and peaceful inside of her, but Killian found sleep eluding him on this Christmas Eve night.

He was happy about the approach of his little one’s birth; of course he was, but he was also bloody terrified.  What did he know about being a father?  His own father had been a piss poor example of what a parent should be.  Killian knew his faults; knew he had a tendency to let emotions rule logic, a tendency toward impulsiveness.  Would he prove to be as much of a disappointment to his son as his father was to him?

The thought made his stomach turn.  Raising a child with Swan—this was one adventure he could not stand to muck up.

Killian had no idea how long he sat there worrying about his inadequacies as a father, but eventually the twinkling lights on the tree and crackling of the fire in the hearth lulled him into an uneasy sleep.

~c~s~c~s~c~s~c~s~c~s~

“Wake up, Little Brother!” someone said as a gentle hand shook Killian’s shoulder.

“Leave off, Liam!” Killian said sleepily…before the shock of what he’d just said—what he’d just heard—penetrated his sleep-fogged brain and woke him completely.

“Must have been dreaming,” Killian muttered to himself, rubbing his eyes with his good hand.  Likely the day spent with family brought his own lost brother to mind.

A deep chuckle interrupted his musings.  “It’s not a dream, Killian,” came the very definite voice of Liam Jones.  “I’m quite real.

Killian turned, staring open-mouthed as his beloved brother, the man he’d personally seen move on to his eternal reward, took a seat on the opposite end of the couch in his and Swan’s living room.

“H…how are you here, brother?” Killian croaked, too shocked even to feel the intense joy he knew would hit soon.

“Technically speaking, I’m not,” Liam said cryptically.  I’m nothing but a shade, a ghost if you will.  Your distress has not gone unnoticed.  I’ve been sent to help you, to be your guide of sorts.”

“My guide?” Killian asked, brow furrowed.  “I’m afraid I don’t follow, Liam.  My guide to what?”

“Your past,” Liam said, getting to his feet and extending a hand.  “You could call me your ghost of Christmas past.  Come.  I’ve much to show you this night.”

“But, Emma…” Killian said as he got to his feet as well.  “She’ll worry if she wakes to find me gone, and in her condition—you’re to be an uncle, Liam!—I hesitate to cause her anymore distress than is absolutely necessary.”

“Fear not about that, little brother,” Liam said with a gentle smile.  “Your wife and babe will be quite well while we’re gone.  I can promise you they won’t even know you’re gone.  Take my hand.  Do you trust me?”

“Always,” Killian said, finally taking the proffered hand.

Killian suddenly felt weightless, as though he’d taken flight.  He looked down and saw the world below him spin away, as though he were moving faster than the airplane Swan had convinced him to board on their honeymoon.  Were he being guided by anyone but Liam, he’d likely have called out in fright, but he’d spoken truthfully.  He knew he could trust his beloved brother to have his safety and best interest at heart.

Killian had scarcely the time to wonder where they were headed before he and Liam landed gently right in the middle of a jungle.  Killian’s heart dropped to his stomach.  He would never in his life be able to forget this place.

_Neverland_.

He turned betrayed eyes to his brother, but before he got the chance to reproach Liam, a full regiment of Lost Ones whooped and hollered as they tore through the forest…stopping just outside Baelfire’s cave.

“Pan’s waiting for you,” the leader, Felix, called into the opening of the cave.  “He’s ready to play.  Are you ready to play Baelfire?  It’s not wise to keep Pan waiting.”

Killian stepped forward, hand fisted, hook raised, but before he could confront the psychotic bullies, Liam stopped him with a hand to his sleeve.  “They can’t see or hear us, brother.  We merely watch events already transpired.”

The thought was surreal…but not nearly as surreal as watching himself, fully attired as a pirate, complete with vicious scowl and finely sharpened hook bound onto the scene and step between Baelfire’s cave and the Lost Ones.

“Not today, mates,” the Hook from the past growled, raising his signature weapon threateningly.  “You’ll have to do without Bae for your sport.”

“Think carefully, captain,” Felix snarled.  “It’s unwise to cross Pan.”

“I’ll take my chances.” Hook said.  “Now return to your demon master, lest you feel the bite of my hook.”

Felix looked as though he wanted to argue further, but then his eyes fell onto the sharpened hook.  Evidently deciding he didn’t wish to go up against the infamous Captain Hook, the Lost One turned away, motioning his followers to do the same.  “You’re going to regret this Captain.  Pan will not be pleased.”

Hook watched until the Lost Ones were out of sight, and then gave a sharp rap to the stone surface that functioned as Baelfire’s front door.  A moment later teenage Bae came into view, looking as though he didn’t know whether to thank Hook—or to go off on him.

“Thanks,” Bae said finally. “Thanks for making them leave.”

Hook waved off the thanks, reaching up to scratch at the spot behind his ear.  “It was no trouble, lad,” Hook said.  “Things may have gone…badly…at our last meeting, but I wish you no harm.  I wish to ensure your safety while we are trapped on this accursed island.  It’s what your mother would have wanted.”

Bae shot him an inscrutable look.  “How can I trust you?  Just yesterday you let the Lost Ones take me from your ship!”

Killian reached into his bag and pulled out a large pastry.  “I mean you no harm, Baelfire.  I never have.  Please accept this cake as a token of my commitment to protect you.”

Bae continued looking at Hook, mouth set in an angry line, but finally he nodded ever so slightly, reaching out to take the proffered gift.  “Thanks,” Bae said

Killian felt a tap on his shoulder, and he turned back to look at Liam.

“Come little brother,” Liam said.  “We’ve yet one more stop to make.”

~c~s~c~s~c~s~c~s~c~s~

Killian felt the soaring, speeding sensation once more, and when he came to a stop, he found himself in the Charmings’ loft.  He looked around and saw himself and Swan seated together on the loveseat, their hands entwined.

“Now if you need anything, anything at _all_ don’t hesitate to call.  If you can’t get ahold of me, you can always call your father at the sheriff’s station,” Mary Margaret said, agitation clear in every fiber of her being.  “Oh I hate leaving like this!  If I didn’t still have Christmas shopping to do, I’d never go, but…”

Emma got to her feet, went to her mother and patted her shoulder.  “Don’t worry, Mom!  Killian and I will be _fine._   Little bro will be just _fine_ with his big sis.”

“And though I might not have as much experience with newly born babes as one might wish,” Killian said, standing and putting an arm around Emma, “I look forward to spending time with the little prince.  No harm will come to your lad while your daughter and I are caring for him.”

“Besides,” Emma added.  “It’s Christmas Eve!  Even the Snow Queen wouldn’t dare attack on a day as magical as today.  Go!  Enjoy your shopping.”

Snow looked unsure for another moment, and then she nodded, giving first Emma and then Killian a hug.  “I won’t be more than an hour.  And don’t forget!  Call me if you need _anything_!”

“Goodbye, mom,” Emma said, gently steering Snow toward the door.  “And don’t rush.  Killian and I are _excited_ about staying with Neal.  Enjoy yourself!”

With one last worried look back at them, Snow finally left the apartment.

Killian smiled as he watched the hour unfold.

“Pleasant memory, brother?” Liam asked.

“Aye,” Killian said, nodding to his other self, holding a sprig of mistletoe over Emma’s head and then leaning in for a long, slow kiss.  “As you can see the first quarter of that hour, while the prince finished his nap, was spent in quite the pleasurable manner.”

“So it would seem,” Liam said with a sly grin.  “My prim and proper lieutenant brother has learned how to comport himself around the ladies.”

Killian grinned back.  “Aye, so he has.  Although this particular woman, my _true love_ , never ceases to keep me on my toes.”

“As I said back in the Underworld, Killian,” Liam allowed.  “I was wrong about Miss Swan…or should I say Mrs. Jones?  Love quite becomes you, and I have my charming sister-in-law to thank for that.”

“More than you know, brother,” Killian said, thinking about the years of pain and vengeance he’d given up when he met Emma.

A cry shattered the tranquility of the apartment, and Emma pulled her mouth free from Killian’s with a groan.  “Guess someone’s up, and he doesn’t sound like he’s in the mood to be patient for his lunch.  I better go get him.”

Killian stopped her with a hand to her arm.  “Let me, love.  You’re far more expert at using the miniature heating box to prepare Neal’s bottle, and I’ve developed quite a fondness for your tiny brother.”

Emma laughed and pecked him once more on the lips.  “It’s called a microwave, Killian,” she said, moving in the direction of the kitchen.

“What a thoroughly illogical moniker,” he responded as he headed toward the little nursery off of the Charmings’ bedroom, the sound of Swan’s continued laughter following him about his task.

“Let’s follow,” Liam said, heading toward the nursery, “this is the moment I particularly wished to bring to your memory.”

Killian walked expertly to the cradle, reached in and maneuvered hand and hook beneath the infant, lifted him, and then placed him in the crook of his arm.  Neal stopped crying as soon as he was in Killian’s arms.

There you are, my little prince,” Killian crooned to the child as he slowly walked back toward the apartment’s common area.  “Have you a smile for your Uncle Killian this afternoon?”

The little one continued peering up at his sister’s boyfriend, content but stoic.

“He’s too young to be smiling yet,” Emma said, coming up behind him and looking at Neal over Killian’s shoulder.  “Won’t start that for another month or so.”

“So it seems,” Killian agreed, turning his head to kiss her gently.

“Want me to feed him?” Emma asked reaching out for the baby.

Killian sat back onto the couch.  “That’s quite alright Swan,” he said, reaching for the bottle, “I’d quite like to do it myself.”

“Suit yourself ‘Uncle Killian’,” Emma said, curling up next to him, laying her head on his shoulder, and reaching over to hold little Neal’s hand.

“Come, Killian,” Liam said, putting an arm around his shoulders, “it’s time we return to your home.”

A moment later, Killian found himself back in his own home, seated once more before the fire and the magnificent Christmas tree.  Liam stood before him.  Perhaps it was a trick of the light, but he looked less solid, less corporeal than before.

“You sense it, do you not, brother?” Liam asked.

“Pardon?”

“You sense that my time with you is nearly over,” Liam said.  “I’ve completed my task, shown you what you needed to see.”

“No!”  Killian said, getting to his feet, trying to reach for Liam; his hand went right through his brother.  “I’ve only just found you again.”

“I’m afraid I must go, Killian,” Liam said with a bittersweet smile.  “Paradise calls to me.  But brother, I know what’s troubled you this night.  I know your fears about your coming son.  You mustn’t be afraid; you will make a tremendous father. Until I see you again in the life to come, brother.  Farewell.”

And with that Liam faded gently away, his exclamations of delight the last thing Killian heard as his brother returned to his place in Paradise.

 

_Notes:_

_\--So this story is obviously based off of Charles Dickens’s “A Christmas Carol”.  That’s always been one of my favorite Christmas stories (and movies), so I thought I’d see if I could turn it into a CS story.  In this version, of course, the returning “ghosts” haven’t come to convince Killian to give up his miserly ways before he ends up dying miserable and friendless (and taking a one-way ticket south), but rather they’ve come to show Killian that he doesn’t need to fear his coming fatherhood._

_\--Up next:  Killian is visited by two more ghosts—one showing Christmas present and the other showing Christmas future. Will these ghosts—one a face very familiar to all of us, and one of them not—succeed in calming Killian’s upcoming fatherhood fears?_


	2. Chapter 2

A Pirate’s Christmas Carol (pt. 2 of 2)

**CS genre: CS Christmas future fic**

Killian woke with a start, heart pounding, utterly disoriented, realizing he wasn’t in his bed with Swan curled up at his side.  After a moment, it all came back to him…his fears and insecurities about upcoming fatherhood, coming to sit before the tree and the fire so his restlessness wouldn’t wake his sleeping wife, Liam, the journey to the past.

_Had it really happened?_

Surely not.  Likely his sleep addled brain had conjured an elaborate dream, seeking relief from the anxiety.

The thought was sad, somehow.  How he would have loved to spend another hour in Liam’s presence, even if his brother was naught but a ghost.

Deciding it would be best to return to bed, Killian got to his feet.  It was then that he noticed the other presence in the room.

Henry stood still and silent in the corner near the Christmas tree.  He stared, unblinking, merely taking Killian in.  It was unnerving as hell.

“Henry, lad,” Killian said slowly.  “I didn’t see you there.  Did you…did you need something?”

The lad shook his head slowly, and then finally spoke.  “It wasn’t a dream, Killian.  You know that, don’t you?  It truly happened.”

Killian took an involuntary step backward.  There was something eerie about this conversation.

“Uncle Liam, I mean,” Henry continued.  “He came to help you overcome your fears, and so have I.”

“But…I was under the belief it would be ghosts visiting me lad.”

Henry nodded.  “Indeed.  Henry lies sleeping peacefully in his bed.  I’m but a shade of your stepson.  Think of me as the Ghost of Christmas Present.”

That…made about as much sense as anything else had on this confusing night.  Perhaps Swan had been speaking literally and not merely in a figure of speech when she called Christmas Eve night a magical time.

“And have you come to show me vignettes from my present?”

Henry nodded and then smiled brightly.  “Absolutely.”

“Well then, lad, lead on.”

~c~s~c~s~c~s~c~s~c~s~

Killian first found himself standing near the window in his own bedchamber.  Bright rays of sun burst through the gossamer thin curtains and came to fall on the bed.  Emma slept on her side, a peaceful smile on her face.  Killian lay behind her, holding her to him.

As the sun continued to pour in, the Killian in the bed woke slowly and stretched.  Sitting up, he ran his hand through his hair, and then smiled down at his still sleeping wife.  A glint of mischief came into his eyes, and he leaned down, brushed her hair back from her face and began to kiss the spot on her neck he knew she particularly liked.

Standing by the window, Killian felt his face flame.  “Henry, lad.  Are you sure you wish to be privy to this?  It appears we’ve wandered into a scene not fit for a son’s eyes.”

“Relax, Killian,” Henry said with a good-natured roll of his eyes.  “You really think I would have brought you to a moment that would leave me wanting to bleach my eyes?  Yeah, I don’t think so.  Just watch.”

Killian shot him one last skeptical look, and then turned his attention back to the bed.

Emma squirmed, and then turned onto her back, eyes opening, smile firmly draped over her face.  Without a word, she reached up behind his head and brought his lips down for a long, slow kiss.  When it came to an end, Killian caressed her face, joy radiating from him like the rays of the sun.

“That was quite the way to wake up,” she said.  “Looks like someone’s in a good mood.”

“Aye,” Killian said.  “And while I’d greatly love to continue on to activities that would ensure both of us were in an even better mood, I fear your lad will be knocking soon, eager to open the gifts we left for him last night.”

“You’re probably right,” Emma said, awkwardly moving to a sitting position, her protruding belly making the movement far more difficult than it would have been otherwise.

Killian reached over and rubbed Emma’s belly, then leaned down so he could better greet his little one.

“Good morning my lad,” he said.  “I love you, and I can’t wait for the moment I may greet you properly.”

Hand still placed on Emma’s stomach, Killian jumped slightly, feeling a little foot kick him.

Emma chuckled.  “Looks like someone’s excited to hear his daddy’s voice.”

“Truly?” Killian asked, face a bit wistful.  “You think he recognizes me.”

She laughed again.  “Killian he kicks and squirms and does somersaults every time you’re around.  I think your son loves you already.”

Killian leaned down to kiss Emma’s belly, right over the spot the babe had kicked.  “I hope you’re right.  I’d never known it was possible to love someone this much—and he hasn’t even greeted the outside world.”

Emma pulled him up until she could kiss him once more.  “You’re going to be an _amazing_ father, Killian.  You know that?”

~c~s~c~s~c~s~c~s~c~s~

The scene blurred, and Killian rubbed at his eyes.  When he opened them again, he and Henry stood near the Christmas tree in their home.

“The first Christmas with the whole family at the new house,” Henry explained as Killian looked around at the Charmings, Regina and Robin (who had made a miraculous return from the dead), Roland, little Robyn and even Zelena.  (Emma had expressed reservations at inviting the greener of the two Mills sisters, but Snow had insisted, stating that if they wanted Zelena to continue on her hero path, they had to give her a chance to prove herself.)

Killian saw Emma making some last minute preparations in the kitchen, assisted by her mother, and Henry sat near the fire playing with his young step-brother and entertaining his even younger uncle…but Killian didn’t see himself in the happy family tableaux.

“Where am I, lad?” Killian asked, feeling a sense of loss at the idea that he was missing Christmas afternoon with his family.

“Don’t worry, Killian,” Henry said.  “You just went to the _Jolly_ to check on her after last night’s snowstorm.  Oh look!  There you are now.”

Accordingly, just as the lad indicated, the front door opened, and Killian came barreling in, quickly closing the door to the winter cold.  He removed his coat and then turned to kiss Emma.

“Hey Killian,” vision Henry said, getting up and going to his step-dad.

“Merry Christmas again, lad.”

“Is the _Jolly_ weathering the winter well?”

“She’s right as rain, my boy,” Killian said. “Nothing so prosaic as a snowstorm can disturb her.  She’s truly a marvel.”

“Cool!”  Henry said.  He continued to smile for a moment, and then suddenly began shuffling from foot to foot. 

“Is something troubling you, mate?” Killian asked, brow furrowed.

Henry averted his eyes.  “No.  Nothing’s _wrong_ ,” he said.  “I just…I was hoping I could talk to you.  You know somewhere where everyone isn’t watching.”

“Of course.  You are aware you can always talk to me about anything on your mind, are you not?”

“Yeah, I know,” Henry said.

The two stepped through the door to what used to be the creepy Dark One cellar—now turned into a comfortable man-cave, as Emma called it.  The visitor Killian and his guide Henry followed their other selves; somehow Killian knew this conversation was precisely what guide Henry wished him to see.

“Now, what’s this about, lad?” Killian asked as soon as they were assured their privacy.

“It’s just…” Henry began awkwardly.  He turned away, reached into a satchel Killian hadn’t realized he’d been wearing.  After a moment of shuffling, he pulled out several pages.

“A new story for your storybook, lad?”

“Yeah,” Henry said.  “Well…more for your storybook.  Yours and moms.  I’m gonna give you guys the start of the book for Christmas, but…I don’t know…I wanted to give you this story separately.”

Killian took the pages and looked over them.  “Our story,” he breathed softly.  “You wrote of the difficult times we’ve just overcome—from your mother becoming a Dark One, to her confrontation with the hooded figure.”

“Yeah,” Henry confirmed.

“But why did you feel the need to pull this story out in particular, and why did you wish to give it to me privately?”

Henry looked anywhere but at Killian, his shuffling and squirming beginning again in earnest.  “It’s just…I wanted to say thank you.  I mean, these last few months have been really, really hard, and you’ve always been there for me, even when you were scared for mom too.  So, yeah.  Just…thanks for being the best step-dad out there.”

Killian felt the familiar rushing sensation, and the next thing he knew he was back in his living room in the middle of the night.

Killian felt a suspicious lump in his throat as he watched the scene play out.  “Do you really think that way about me, Henry?” he asked in a small voice.

“Of course!” Henry said with a smile.  “And that’s why you have nothing to worry about.  All you have to do to be a great dad is to love your children, and you do.  You really do.  My little brother is going to be a lucky kid.”

“I hope you’re right, mate,” Killian said, allowing hope to fill his heart and almost—not quiet but almost—push away the fear.

~c~s~c~s~c~s~c~s~c~s~

When Killian woke the next time, he looked around eagerly, wondering which familiar face had shown up to guide him this time.

He found himself peering into the face of a stranger.  He was tall and handsome with straight, black hair and familiar green eyes.  Killian was quite sure he’d never met the man before, but there was a definite air of familiarity about him.

“Would you happen to be the Ghost of Christmas future?” Killian asked carefully.

“That I am,” the man said.  “I’m here to show you a Christmas from your future.”

“Pardon mate,” Killian said, “but who might you be?”

The man smiled, a secret smile that Killian couldn’t quite understand.  “For the moment, you can simply call me Charles.”

“Very well, Charles,” Killian said, feeling somehow both eager and hesitant to see the future visions this man had to show him.  “Lead on.”

~c~s~c~s~c~s~c~s~c~s~

The first thing Killian noticed when the room stopped spinning was himself and Emma sitting on the couch before the fire.  Many years had clearly passed as both of them were quite elderly, sporting snow-white hair and skin significantly wrinkled.

“She’s still beautiful, isn’t she?” Charles asked, following Killian’s gaze.

Killian let out a long, slow breath.  My Emma is gorgeous, and she no doubt will be until the day she dies.”

Charles rolled his eyes good-naturedly.  “The two of you have always been so romantic and in love it’s almost disgusting.”

“You’ve known us long?” Killian asked, curious about the identity of this guide.

“All my life,” came the cryptic reply.

“In what capacity?”

Charles shushed him, pointing toward the front door of the Swan-Jones home. 

After a quick knock, the door was opened and a woman entered; a woman Killian didn’t recognize—but he didn’t need an introduction.  The lass was the spitting image of Swan at the time he met her.  This must be…couldn’t be anyone else but…their daughter.

Killian felt the tears come to his eye as his lovely daughter rushed forward and hugged first Emma and then him.

“Eva!” Emma said.  “You’re here!  You actually made it!”

“Surprise!” she said. 

“What happened, love?” Older Killian asked, joy suffusing every inch of his face.  “You told us you were required to work over the holiday.”

“I couldn’t do it, Papa!” she said.  “I know how much Christmas means to you.  To both of you.  I rearranged my schedule and took the first flight I could get into Storybrooke.  I couldn’t stand to be anywhere but at home for Christmas.”

Older Killian hugged his daughter once more, a single tear tracing its way down his wizened cheek.  “You couldn’t have given me a greater gift, little love.”

The living room blurred, and when it came back into focus, Killian noticed that the evening had turned to night and Eva was joined by a whole houseful of new—and familiar—faces.  Killian noticed a middle-aged Henry, seated next to a similarly aged Violet.  Several children played, running and chasing each other in the far corner of the room.

Killian continued to scan the scene, smiling as Eva and Emma sat talking and laughing together.  He saw himself with a tiny boy on his lap…and sitting next to them was none other than Charles.

“Papa!” the tiny boy said, turning toward Charles, “Grandpa told me a story!  An exciting one about when he was a pirate!”

“Did he now, Liam?” Charles said, ruffling the boy’s hair.  “Grandpa has all kinds of exciting tales to tell.”

“I know!” Liam said.  “He said he’d tell me the one about the beanstalk and the giant and his first ‘venture with Grandma.  He’s the best Grandpa ever, isn’t he, papa?”

Charles put a hand on older Killian’s shoulder.  “That he is, Liam.  My dad is the best father and grandfather I know.”

Killian gasped, turning to look at his guide with new eyes.  “You’re…you’re my son?”

Charles grinned.  “The very same.  You haven’t officially met me yet, but I’ll be born in just over a month.”

The emotions rose up and nearly overwhelmed Killian.  This man, this happy, well-adjusted man with a loving wife and a beautiful son was the first child born of his and Emma’s love.  “So…I didn’t fail you, lad?”

“Look around you, Papa,” Charles said, gesturing at the happy, if slightly chaotic, sight around him.  “Look at the family you and Mama built.  This is hardly failure.  This is just about the greatest example of success I could imagine.  I wouldn’t have traded my life with you and Mama for anything in any of the realms.”

~c~s~c~s~c~s~c~s~c~s~

“Killian?”  He woke slowly, feeling a gentle shaking of his shoulder.  “Killian, are you alright?”

_Swan_.

He smiled, reaching for her and pulling her in for a quick kiss.  “Aye, love.  I’m quite fine.”

Killian looked around, noticing the first soft rays of the sun beginning to peek through the front windows.  “What day is it, Swan?”

She gave him a strange look.  “Um…well it was Christmas Eve when we went to bed last night, so that makes today Christmas.  That’s how these things work.”

“So they did it all in one night,” he muttered to himself, thinking of his three ghostly visitors and all the many places—and times—he’d seen.

“What?” Emma asked.  “Killian, are you sure everything is okay?  I woke up and you were gone, and your side of the bed was cold.  It’s not like you to leave our bed in the middle of the night.”

Killian smiled tenderly at her, caressed her cheek and pulled her in for another long, slow kiss, his hand caressing her belly.  When the kiss came to an end, he pulled away only far enough to press his forehead to hers.  “I was afraid,” he admitted.

Emma started and pulled away.  “Afraid?  Of what?  Don’t tell me we have a new villain in town!  It’s _Christmas_!  Can’t they at least wait until after the holiday to make our lives hell?”

Killian chuckled.  “Calm yourself, love.  Nothing like that.”  He rubbed her belly once again.  “We’ve only a month yet before this little one comes, love, and I suppose I feared my ability to be the father our son deserves.”

“Killian…” she said gently, but he stopped her with a raised hand.

“Don’t worry love,” he said.  “Last night my fears were put to rest, thanks to some very persuasive guests.”

“Well this sounds like it will be quite the story.”

“Indeed,” he admitted, getting to his feet, “suppose I tell you the entirety of it as I make you a Christmas breakfast?”

 

_Notes:_

_\--Merry Christmas (Eve)!  I hope your holidays are going well!  
_


End file.
